To Tear Off Her Wings
by Petals Open to the Moon
Summary: "To dim the sun before the summer ends, to burn the castle down before the princess is awake. To kill a love while it's still so alive. I could not do it... my heart would break." Could he have saved her, had he not made a deal with the devil? The answer would torment him for eternity.


**A reader messaged me from my first Dracula one-shot, asking a question about a "speech" Vlad gave about honoring someone. He was a guest, so I can't directly reply, but I hope this one-shot answers your question, my friend. :)  
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**Enjoy reading! (And for the love of Heaven, don't cry, because I'm sure I'll hear you! I'm a mess as it is.) I highly recommend listening to the song below, and anything from that musical. Breaks the heart, it does.  
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><p><em>To catch a butterfly, and then just tear of its wings <em>

_It's so much worse than all of these things..." _

_("Before the Summer Ends"; Dracula) _

Cazan stood near the Prince, the usual grimace marking his countenance.

"They are coming," he said flatly.

Vlad turned to give him a dark look. As if the obvious needed to be stated. One hundred thousand men against a handful of exhausted survivors... and a leader who had but one hour to retain the strength to protect them. He had ordered his wife and child to their rooms, protected by one of his men. He did not look behind him, knowing the sight of worn citizens and scantily-spread weaponry would only depress him further.

The hateful thumping of Turkish feet grew ever louder. Cazan's fist tightened on his cane. "Speak, my Prince!" he demanded. "Speak to your people! Tell us what to do!" At Vlad's silence, he leaned closer, hissing in his ear. "Not all of us have the privilege of your _dark_ _magic." _

Vlad whirled, harsh words rising to his lips, when something caught his eye. His soldiers followed his fixed gaze. The clouds hung thick and grey above them, waiting to be woken by the sun. The only moving thing was a large bat, whirling drunkenly towards the highest tower of the monastery. Vlad exhaled loudly.

"Stand by your stations," he ordered. "Ready the bows. Do not let a single man stray from the gates, 'til I give the order."

He pushed hurriedly through the crowd, ignoring the mystified expressions of his soldiers. On his way up a crumbling staircase, he came across a young boy, just about Ingeras' age. The lad had snuck a sword from the armory, and was sharpening it a look of determination on his little face.

The hard lines in the Prince's face softened. He knelt briefly. "Fear not," he whispered. "You shan't have to fight this day."

"I fight for my country, my lord," said the boy. He straightened bony shoulders, looking bravely up at the Prince.

Vlad hid a smile. So like his own son. "What is your name?"

"Pieter."

"Well, then, Pieter..." Vlad took his right hand gently, setting it at the correct angle on the blade's hilt. "You fight for your country, and for your family. But do not leave the monastery. Do you understand?"

"Yes," the child said quietly. His appearance was as dusty and bedraggled as the rest, but his eyes met Vlad's unwaveringly.

"There's a good lad. Do you trust your Prince?"

"I... I trust you, my lord." He lowered his head, then, mumbling. "I don't care what Mama says."

"What does your mother say?"

The boy looked afraid, then. "She says... that you are cursed. A _vrăjitor. _That you are... are using us for more power."

Vlad stared at him for a moment, then let out a low breath. "I will tell you what I have told my men, Pieter. Whatever I do, it is for the safety of our country. The safety of _your _family."

Pieter nodded. "I understand, my lord." Vlad gripped the lad's shoulder firmly before standing. He could feel Pieter's gaze following him as he left.

Mirena stood quietly on the balcony, one hand on her son's shoulder. Only a few hours earlier, Vlad had stood there with her, his strong arms giving her the strength she pretended she had, yet so desperately needed. She sighed softly, bending to press a gentle kiss to Ingeras' curls. _He hasn't been combing them,_ she thought absently. _Did he get enough to eat last night? _

"Mama?"

She looked down into his dark eyes, so like his father's. "Yes, _fiul meu?" _

"What is Papa going to do?"

"I do not know, darling."

Her son stepped away from her, peering down over the balcony. Mirena reached out a protective hand, even though the railing prevented him falling. Ingeras frowned. "I don't see him."

"He's most likely near the armory, dearest, bringing out the last of the weapons."

"No, Mama. He's not anywhere."

Mirena went to stand beside him. Her husband was indeed gone. A seed of fear planted itself in her heart. Dear heaven, surely he would not leave them again? He had done so twice already, and each time had resulted in the deaths of many.

Even though she now understood his reasons why.

A heavy step sounded on the stairs. Both of them turned, half-expecting to see a Turk come bursting into the room. Something rushed past the doorway, too dark to be seen clearly. Mirena turned to their bodyguard, her voice trembling. "Who was that?"

"The Prince, I believe." The man's eyebrows drew together. He secretly wondered why his Master refused to put on any armor. Their castle would soon lie under attack, and what protection did he have?

Or so he thought.

Vlad ran up the circular staircase, his form blurring as he moved faster towards his destination. He walked out onto the cold stone of the uppermost tower, looking about. Another bat flew past him suddenly, drawing his attention to the dark eaves above. Close to a hundred of them clung there, a writhing, black mass against the ancient walls of his forefathers.

Slowly, as if doubting himself, Vlad reached out a hand. For a moment, nothing happened, and he felt like a great fool. Then the tiny, glistening eyes of the bats flew open, fastening upon him. He grinned back. They rustled and flapped their wings eagerly, chattering amongst themselves. The Prince closed his eyes, reaching deep within himself, and called to them.

And they came.

A captain of the Sultan's army, the one they called "Bright Eyes", advanced stealthily up the mountain slope with a handful of men. It was still too dark for those above to spot them, and even so, they would be focused on the massive army ahead. He clung to the rocks with powerful arms, urging his men forward. A series of sharp, screeching sounds echoed above them. The Turks looked up, watching in surprise as a long, black line of - bats? birds? - made their way to monastery.

One of the men crossed himself hurriedly. Another murmured to his companion.

"Keep moving!" Bright Eyes snarled. He cared not for distractions. Their goal was the Impaler's son. And perhaps, if they had the time, the slaughter of the remainder of those stubborn Transylvanians.

High above, Vlad was unaware of the nearing danger. Eyes closed, black hair blowing wildly, he brought the million-strong colony of bats to him. From below, his family watched the swarm in astonishment and some fear. Vlad felt his heart pounding, sending the blood surging through his veins just as he felt the darkness surging powerfully within him. Laughing aloud, he brought each remaining creature outside of the tower to join their kind. They formed a frightening shape in the sky... like a black Rose of Death hovering over God's holy place.

Vlad looked down, his sharp eyes quickly locating Mehmet on his white stallion. Snarling in effort, he flung his hand upwards. The bats rushed higher with a mighty force, spreading out like the fingers of a massive, black hand. And when their Lord rushed forward, so did they, barreling down on the blinded soldiers in a hurricane of wings and shrieking laughter.

The soldiers screamed in terror, completely unprepared for the attack. Some dropped their weapons, fighting with the vicious animals that circled their necks and shoulders, snapping at the flesh with greedy teeth. Others ripped off their blindfolds in blatant disregard of their Sultan's command.

Because men fear what they cannot see, he'd told them. But what good had it done? The golden figure on the horse wheeled about, barking orders into the chaos surrounding him. And then all hell erupted again as Vlad slammed a mighty fist into the stone of the floor. His children slammed into the thousands of soldiers with equal force, and this time, many were not left standing. Weapons flew from bloody fists. Helmets were discarded and trampled in the pandemonium. The distraction gave the Transylvanians the courage they needed to fire their bows, sending flames like shooting stars whizzing across the battlefield.

Vlad watched eagerly, his red eyes flickering back and forth. Then he paused, teeth baring. The Sultan had not fallen. The bastard remained stubbornly upright, flinging bats away from him with his gleaming sword. The Dark Prince ran to the edge of the balcony, flying with furious speed down the mountainside. He ripped the man effectively from his horse, sending him tumbling haphazardly across the muddy earth. The Turks howled in fear as the monster himself appeared in their midst, running from him. Vlad stalked towards the fallen leader, eyes blazing.

"Now you die," he hissed, lashing out with a taloned hand. The man looked up, terrified.

It was not Mehmet.

"Where is he?" Vlad demanded.

The man stammered, frantic Turkish spilling from his lips. The Prince lifted him high in the air above him, roaring.

_"WHERE IS HE?!"  
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A sharp scream came from the east, causing his head to snap up. Vlad dropped the cringing soldier. He looked up with horrified eyes, seeing the flutter of a white gown on the tower's ledge...

"Mirena!"

Mehmet, hidden in the guise of one of his soldiers, watched as the Prince morphed into the tiny creatures, surging with desperate speed towards the monastery. Above the mountaintops, the sun was just beginning to peak.

The Turkish spies snuck surreptitiously into the monastery, walking straight up to the tower where the Princess and her son stood guarded. Mirena turned as their bodyguard did, her heart sinking in her breast. Three Turks walked slowly into the room, circling the poor man like sharks.

"We don't want _you," _one said smoothly.

The Transylvanian struck out with his _kilij, _turning back around quickly to prevent attack on the other side. He fought bravely, but it was a losing battle. He hadn't his Master's strength. Bright Eyes impaled him swiftly on his sword from behind, watching the man fall.

"Quick!" Mirena gasped. "Find your father!" She dragged Ingeras from the room, running up the stairs. Bright Eyes wiped his sword calmly, signalling his men to follow him.

Ingeras rushed out into the empty tower. There were no railings to prevent him from falling here. Mirena kept a tight grasp on his hand, her head swiveling this way and that, searching for Vlad.

"Wh-where is he?" her son whispered.

She looked down the sheer drop, dread filling her heart. Behind her, she could hear the heavy boots of their pursuers sound on the stone.

"You can run, if you like," taunted the young Turk, advancing on them both.

"Ingeras," she whispered. "Stay in front of me." _Oh, God-! Where was his father? _

She scarcely had time to think this before one of the Janissaries leapt forward, leveling a blow at her stomach. She crumpled in pain, falling backwards with a shriek. Bright Eyes seized Ingeras, laughing harshly.

_"Onu bitirmek," _he hissed to one of them. He walked out with the others, dragging the screaming child with him. The remaining soldier grinned. He stepped closer to the edge where Mirena clung, her fingers barely grasping at a crack in the stonework.

"Vlad!" she screamed.

The Turk lifted his foot, leveling it at her face. Scarcely had he moved then a swarm of shrieking creatures crashed into him, sending him flying off the ledge. His screams reminded Mirena of her own possible death. She looked up, and the feel of the sun hitting her face had never been more terrible.

Vlad struggled to resume his natural form, gasping heavily against the stone. He looked up, and their eyes met.

The stone flags broke.

Vlad shot after her as she fell, the shadow of the tower giving him refuge from the light. A terrible sound rang in his ears, and he realized it was him. Screaming. Begging her to take his hand, even as the rush of wind ripped the words from his mouth. Her eyes were open... watching him... but she said nothing.

She fell like the last petal of summer, the cold distant light of the Eastern Star.

And slowly... very slowly... he felt himself begin to weaken.

They hit the ground together, his body crushing hers, though his arm protected her head from the rocks. He bent over her frantically, his throat raw, his eyes swollen with tears that burned...

"Mirena... Mirena, please... stay with me. I cannot do this without you..."

His princess lay motionless in his arms, deaf to his pleading. Off in the distance, cries echoed his own. The cries of the helpless as they were struck down. The cry of little Pieter as he died holding a sword that was not his burden to bear. The muted groan of old Cazan as Turks maliciously cut his cane out from under him. And the cry of Vlad's son rang loudest of all, as the little boy watched his beloved parents fall to their deaths. He was led away on the Sultan's horse, his sobbing mocked by the remaining soldiers that clustered 'round him.

Vlad was deaf to all these. He held his own life in his hands. He whispered her name repeatedly, his hands covered in blood and dirt as he cradled her sweet face. Her eyes fluttered, and he heaved a gasp.

"Thank God!"

"Vlad..." she moaned. Her organs were ruptured, more than a few ribs broken. "Vlad... I-I cannot feel my legs..."

His tears wet her face, falling heedlessly. "I'm sorry, my angel. So very, very sorry." He kissed her forehead tenderly. "I will fix this. I will heal you, find our son..."

He paused. She was shaking her head sadly.

"There's still time for you to stop this..."

He gazed down at her, his eyes bewildered.

"Drink my blood."

He inhaled sharply. "No! I cannot take your life...!"

"My life is lost already," she whispered. Tears trickled down her cheeks. "But our son's is not."

"Mirena," he begged. He didn't want to believe that she was right. He could feel the darkness rearing inside him, raging to be set free. He rested his forehead against hers. "Please... please don't make me do this."

"It's all right," she said softly. Her hands rested on his strong arms, too fragile to do anything else. She heaved a ragged breath, feeling the life leave her. "Do it now!"

He lifted his head, weak with hunger.

"I love you," she whispered.

He could not stop. He now understood what the Vampire had meant, when he had given him his blood. With great power comes an even greater price. He looked up at the morning sky, tears raining from his face. His teeth lengthened and sharpened, and into his eyes came a raw, animalistic light. He roared, bringing his mouth down to her throat with a sickening crunch. Blood frothed and bubbled, filling his mouth and veins with its decadent fullness.

Mirena gasped, though the pain was nothing compared to her injuries. She clutched his body to hers tightly. The monster fed with delight, tearing the skin in a vicious search for the life within. And when he finally let go, roaring in triumph, he did not at first remember who he was, or why he was holding this creature in his arms. He only knew that he felt alive. And that every animal for miles around - whether it be the crafty eagle or the beasts in the forest - was one with him in his need to hunt, to kill, to feed, to _survive. _

The clouds gathered overheard, blotting out the offensive sunlight. Far away, at the entrance of a cursed mountain, the Vampire stood silently. It had been a thousand years since he had felt the brush of fresh air on his face. A face which, as the sun faded, became smooth and flawless. His eyes adjusted quickly to their new light. Only his hands remained unchanged, the nails sharp as talons for catching his prey.

_I thank you, little Prince, _he thought quietly. He felt Vlad's frantic emotions with some amusement. Grief would soon settle in, but it would pass. He was looking forward to the monster that would then rise. The game that could then begin.

Blood dripped fluidly from the Prince's open mouth, slipping down his throat in a grisly trail. He slumped forward slightly, panting and gasping. His heart thumped strongly in his chest.

_Mirena! _

He looked down at his hands, which still clutched her limp body with brutal strength. He pulled them away quickly. Only then did the agony come. It filled his chest with alarming rapidity, snaking around his heart and clawing up his chest in a frantic effort to be heard. The Prince's entire body bent backward, his teeth glistening red as he opened anguished arms to the sky...

And screamed.

No.

Sweet Lord, please. No.

Not like this.

_"Damn you!"_ he screamed, knowing the Vampire would hear. _"Damn you_ to the blackest depths of hell!"

It had been his choice. The Vampire had not forced him. But he pushed these thoughts from him. All that mattered... all that possibly _could _matter... was that her sapphire eyes no longer looked into his. That her fragrant lips no longer whispered his name...

He drew her body to his again, slowly, this time with gentle, tender hands. His tears stained her brow. He cradled her back and forth in his arms, weeping like a man who had just witnessed eternal happiness... only to have it wrenched cruelly away. His heart beat wildly against her body, and he wished it were hers.

_Mirena... my dearest angel on his earth... Forgive me. I now know hell is real... so I know there is indeed a heaven. Nothing in this world or the next shall keep us apart. I will honor your sacrifice and I vow that our son shall be safe.  
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Vlad held her closer, a black wraith over a sleeping angel.

_Mirena..._

_Wait for me._

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><p><strong>Janissary - a member of the Turkish infantry, forming the Sultan's guard between the 14th and 19th centuries<strong>

_**Onu bitirmek -**_**finish her **

**_vrăjitor _- sorcerer  
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_**fiul meu**_**- my son **


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